


This Means War

by Madame_Tentacle



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Comedy, Gen, Office Pranks, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-18 03:49:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13673655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madame_Tentacle/pseuds/Madame_Tentacle
Summary: The days at Mt. Massive pass by slowly when you're an overpaid executive, but Rick has a plan to keep things moving.





	This Means War

Seas of unpaid interns cleared a path as Jeremy Blaire stormed down the halls. If it were a good day, he would flash them the fakest of smiles and drop a friendly reminder about the Murkoff work ethic, but today, he grumbled about hangovers and Mondays. The only intern to be acknowledged was the one who happened to be closest by when Jeremy craved his morning coffee: black and steaming hot, if they wanted to keep their job.

Not until reaching his office door did Jeremy calm. The nameplate on the door was as good as any “Welcome Home” sign. Paired with the soundproof walls and plush office chairs made the space doubly comfortable than the shitty living apartments that the Murkoff payroll offered in the madhouse. He sighed contentedly, and swiped his badge to unlock the door, but with a flick of the light switch his jaw dropped.

He couldn’t see his office past the sea of sparkling red wrapping paper. It stretched from floor to ceiling, covering his chair, desk, every knick knack from every mandatory office party--all trapped in the paper and lined with smiling faces of St. Nick. Smiles that laughed at him, taunted him.

With a wince, he turned around to chew out the first person unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity, and there was the culprit.

Rick leaned over the back of his swivel, roller chair to peer into the office. “So how many elves you got stashed away in there?” he asked as if he were simply inquiring about the weather.

“Rick…” The temperature dropped in the room.

“What? Not feeling the Christmas spirit?” Rick asked without batting an eye.

“It’s April!!!”

Rick pressed a finger against his ear at Jeremy’s outburst. “Geez, who spit in your coffee?”

“No one has because no one has BROUGHT my coffee yet!”

Before Jeremy could strangle him, Rick held out a mug for him. “Swiped it off the intern on the way here.”

“Gimme that!” Jeremy snatched the mug and stomped into his office, making sure to step on as many smiling Santas as possible. Then came the familiar ring of the phone, a little red light shining through the paper. “The phone too!?”

Rick grinned from ear to ear. “Oh, come on! Where’s your Christmas spirit?”

“Rick, I swear to God.”

“Oooh, open that one!” Rick pointed to a stapler shaped package. “I wonder what it is!”

Rather than open the package, Jeremy chucked it at Rick. It would have whacked him on the head if Rick weren’t so quick on the roller chair.

“Merry Christmas, buddy!” Rick cackled as he rolled down the hall and out of sight.

If Jeremy had his coffee, he’d have pursued Rick. As it was, he retrieved the stapler shaped package and slammed the door shut. He tore at the wrapping paper, muttering curses under his breath, yet as the wrapping paper piled around his feet and he squeezed the stapler, his eyebrow slowly raised.

\---

For every hour that Rick bounced off the walls from his morning fix, there came a half hour of dozing off at his desk. If not for his off-the-charts productivity during his active hours, he’d have been canned years ago.

Jeremy timed his visit to Rick’s office to match up with his usual naps. In one hand he wielded the stapler. The other held a box of Krispy Kreme donuts. He didn’t bother tiptoeing as Rick’s snoring was louder than any shouting scientists or screaming variant. Upon reaching him, Jeremy leaned down so he could take the tie that dangled due to Rick’s refusal to tuck it in properly. He placed the end on the desk, then slammed the stapler onto it, pinning it down with a click.

Rick’s snoring continued.

“Wake up!” Jeremy snapped. He pulled the chair from underneath Rick, causing him to fall to the ground. The fall wouldn’t have been painful, if not for the tie that threatened to strangle him, jerking him back to consciousness

Groaning, Rick looked up to see Jeremy leering down at him. 

“Sleeping on the job, Mr. Trager?” Jeremy asked, sweetly.

“Really, Jer?” Rick asked, as he shifted to keep the tie from straining too much.

“Now we’re even.” Jeremy said in a tone that was far too reasonable.

“If my neck is fucked up from this, I hope you know that I am absolutely filing a lawsuit against you.” 

“I had a feeling you’d say that, so I brought a peace offering.” Jeremy held out the krispy kreme box, which made Rick’s eyes sparkle.

“Is that what I think it is?”

“Mhmmm.” Jeremy nodded. “I won’t even make you share.”

Rick reached out for the box, then stopped. “Wait.”

“What?” 

“It’s too easy. You got the glazed shit, didn’t you?”

Jeremy shook his head. “Nope. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t remember that you were the only person who liked the New York cheesecake flavor?”

“Aw, you really do care!” Rick snatched the box. “Thanks, buddy!”

“Enjoy,” was all Jeremy said before backing off.

Rick tore into the box, like it were the christmas gift he always wanted, but froze when he looked inside. Not a single donut looked back at him, but an abundance of celery, carrots, and cucumbers. All organized on a tray from the catering company in the neighboring town.

By the time he looked back up, Jeremy was waltzing out of the office to the door.

“Fuck you too, Jer!” Rick shouted after him. 

More curses followed, but Jeremy didn’t hear a single one of them over the tune he whistled.

\---

A ding on the computer broke the haze Jeremy found himself in the final hour of work. He opened the blinking IM on his toolbar to see a message from RTrager.

-We still on for drinks after work? :)

Jeremy read and reread the message a dozen times. He searched high and low for a sign of passive aggression or plots of vengeance, but all he found was that smiling face at the end. He rubbed his temple and sighed. The day he understood what went on in Rick’s head would be the day hell froze over. “The usual place?” Jeremy typed up in compliance to the madness.

An immediate ding in response.

-Yeah, you mind driving?

-Sure, I’ll meet you outside in an hour

One last round of emails, and Jeremy was out the door to the usual spot, where Rick awaited, and greeted him with the same smile as any other day. “Heya, buddy!”

“Ready to go?” Jeremy asked.

“Whenever you are!” Rick chirped.

They started the short walk to Jeremy’s shiny, black Mercedes Benz, bitching about their days the whole way, until Jeremy pulled the keys from his pocket. 

Rick stifled a laugh.

“What’s so funny?” Jeremy raised an eyebrow.

“Just thinking about something stupid an intern did today. I’ll tell ya on the ride over!”

With a shrug, Jeremy pressed the button to open the door. As it opened, out poured an avalanche of golf balls. They fell out, like a raging river, sweeping over Jeremy’s ankles, drowning his feet, before tumbling down the mountain, and out of sight. The stream of golf balls lasted for a full minute. Neither Rick nor Jeremy said a word, only watched the balls disappear into the mist below.

In the silence, Jeremy peered into his car to stare at the remainder of golf balls that remained, nestled between seat cushions and caught in the handles. He could only sigh. “Wanna just take your car?”

“Sure thing!”

They abandoned the luxury car to the interns. Neither of them spoke of the incident again.


End file.
